Double Trouble
by Sarma
Summary: Clarke is The Commander. Bellamy is her personal guard. He suggests she get a political decoy, for her own safety and for practicality. After a revealing discussion with Octavia, Clarke agrees. Bellamy discovers it wasn't such a great idea and he should have kept his mouth shut. or the one where Clarke's double causes a lot of trouble for Bellamy.
1. Chapter 1

**Tags: Bellarke. Canon-divergence. S3ish. The AI doesn't exist. The 2nd Apocalypse doesn't exist. Humour - I hope. Bickering. Angst. Sexual Tension. Pining. Idiots in Love. Original Female Character.**

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 **A/N: I know I should be writing "Could We Stay Right Here" but I'm kinda stuck on it at the moment. So here's something I concocted donkeys ago, which wasn't going to see the light of day, until I needed a diversion. It's a big plot and will take some time to conclude, but I hope you can come along on the journey with me!**

 **Non beta'd, as per usual.**

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Chapter One.

Swinging his gun behind him on its strap, Bellamy stepped out of the tower and immersed himself in the clamour and motion of the market.

He often came here to clear his head.

Clarke had once derided him about it – "Only you could find calm in such a chaotic place," she'd said with a playful snort.

He took it as a compliment.

Today, however, he was not trying to find calm, or even gather and sort his thoughts.

Today he was trying to find an answer – a solution to a problem.

Personally, he didn't think it was such a big deal.

He was just doing his job. Why couldn't she accept that?

It was her fault she'd ended up in this predicament – if she had just listened to his advice about the appearance at The Lake District and stopped sneaking out for her solitary bathing sessions at the hot springs – he wouldn't have had to bump up her personal security detail or clamp down on her movements.

"I can't live like this Bellamy!" She had told him earlier. "I feel like a caged animal."

"Should've thought about that before you snuck out on Miller two days ago and nearly got yourself killed."

"So, you'd prefer I took Miller with me while I bathed naked?" She taunted.

"Over getting assassinated? Yes." He sighed, not taking her bait. "That's why we have O and Monroe on the detail, Clarke. So you can do your thing, without feeling uncomfortable. You know that."

"I needed some time alone… to think. It wouldn't have mattered if it was Miller, Monroe or my _mother_. _You_ know that _._ "

His mind may have thrived in the company of chaos, but Bellamy understood it was essential for Clarke to have periods of quiet solitude to re-energise.

As her personal guard and advisor, he had always tried to allow her the space and freedom to be herself and do things her way. He'd worked damn hard to create a system that suited her needs and ensured her safety at the same time.

So, he was understandably pissed off when she bucked that system, or worse, declared it inefficient.

"Why did you cancel my visit to the Azgeda orphanage?" She had convened with him after the morning meal. Her voice was clipped but controlled.

He knew she'd be upset about that one. He had accompanied her on each of her prior visits and realised how important it was to her. But Clarke was well aware of the turmoil in Azgeda at the moment, and that the orphanage happened to be smack in the middle of insurgent territory.

"It's too dangerous." He said plainly.

"You don't get to decide that Bellamy." He could feel her frustration rising.

"Actually, I do. That's my job."

"Your job is to stop anything bad happening to me, not smother me until I feel like I'm suffocating, or place all these ridiculous curfews and limitations on my life." She was being irrational now.

He knew she didn't like it. Hell… _he_ didn't like it.

He hated unnecessary rules and regulations and he wouldn't be enforcing them on her if there was any other way around it. But they had very limited intel about the current dynamics of the clans and it wasn't like he could… read the enemies mind! There was unrest all around them and threats not even he could see coming. Two assassination attempts in the last week had left him feeling very uncertain and wary for Clarke's safety. His instincts told him something big was brewing.

He'd learnt to trust his instincts a long time ago. He thought Clarke had too.

He shrugged nonchalantly which he knew annoyed her even more. "It's how these things work Clarke."

"Well… it's not working for me!" She stood up and gestured for her next guests to enter the room. "I've called a security meeting with Kane and the others before dinner tonight. You need to come up with something better by then - something that doesn't involve me feeling like a prisoner in my own skin."

That's how he had ended up at the market – searching for a solution to what seemed like an unsolvable problem.

His eyes flitted over the scene before him, surveying the crowd and the stalls, memorising the details and following the movement, noting the hazards and exit points.

Ever since Octavia was born he'd been highly vigilant. There was no denying his hardwiring had hindered his personal life, but it was a trait that had served him well on earth. Not just served him, but kept him and many others alive. It made him oddly grateful for his harsh past and the way it had shaped him.

As his eyes roamed the city street, they stopped suddenly at the sight of a young boy with a pet monkey on his shoulder. He watched diligently as the boy encouraged the monkey to perform for passers-by in exchange for goods.

It was fascinating to see. Bellamy hadn't seen a monkey before and he was pretty sure they weren't native to this area on earth, before the end. But it was possible the animal could have come from descendants of a nearby zoo, he supposed. As fascinated as he was with the animal itself, he was more intrigued with the performance it was putting on. He watched carefully as the monkey interacted with the market-goers, mimicking their every move like a mirror – impersonating their facial expressions and movements.

Watching that monkey gave him the answer he was looking for.

They had been going backwards and forwards for two hours and Clarke was still not happy. Kane was just as cautious, if not more so than Bellamy, and for the most part he agreed with the young man's adjustments to Clarke's schedule.

"You've been quiet," Clarke honed in on her right hand man. "Did you come up with a solution?"

Truth was he had been going over and over the idea in his head ever since he'd returned from the market. The more he thought about it, the more he knew Clarke wouldn't go for it. But it was all he had and he had to throw it out there.

"Maybe," he muttered, non-committal.

The rest of the room came to a quiet hush as they realised he was finally engaging in the discussion.

"Bellamy," Octavia spoke up. "It's been two hours. Whatever you have has to be better than the brick wall we've been banging our heads against repeatedly."

"Alright," he shrugged and stood up from his stool, scanning the elite security team, until finally resting his eyes on Clarke. "I propose we employ a political decoy to take Clarke's place for high-risk public appearances, or, at times when she might be needed in more than one place."

The small group turned to one another with confused expressions on their faces.

"A political decoy?" Clarke rose slowly from her throne. "You mean a body double?"

Bellamy cleared his throat.

"More than just a body double. Someone who can _be you_ \- talk like you, act like you - essentially impersonate you."

A wave of interest and excitement rolled over the others as they began to realise what Bellamy's idea entailed.

Ignoring them, Clarke shook her head and opened her mouth to speak, but before she could begin, Bellamy cut her off.

"You want privacy – freedom," he uttered, stepping closer to her in the hope that only she could hear him. He needed her undivided attention before she ruled his plan out. "This is your chance, Clarke. If you want to have your bath, or visit your mother in Arkadia, or even spend time drawing - the stand-in can take your place wherever you're expected to be. Besides, you're always complaining that there's never enough time to do everything you want to do - think about how much more you can achieve with two of you."

"No," she said without a second thought, loud enough for everyone to hear, and the room erupted into protest.

"You know I can't agree to this," she murmured to Bellamy as he stood stock still in his spot, glaring at her with furrowed brows.

They were only inches away from each other and he could see the apology in her eyes, but it didn't dampen his displeasure in her decision.

Why did she have to be so stubborn?

"Perhaps we should adjourn for dinner," Kane's voice cut into the silence that fell between them. "Mull it over some more after a hearty meal."

"Let's do that," Bellamy mumbled under his breath, turning on his heels and exiting the room.

He knew there would be no mulling.

The Commander had made up her mind.

Outside in the corridor, Octavia cornered Clarke.

"Are you kidding me right now?" she questioned vehemently, grabbing her friend's arm.

"Not now Octavia," Clarke wanted to catch Bellamy before he entered the dining hall. She hated when he left things like that.

"This is the best idea anybody's had in two hours and you're going to reject it with no good reason? Seriously Clarke, I have better things to do with my time than come to these meetings only to have you kick every suggestion over the frickin' balcony."

Clarke sighed. She detested having to explain herself all the time. "I won't put somebody else's life at risk for the sake of my own. Is that a good enough reason for you?"

"You're responsible for thousands of lives," Octavia retorted. "What's one more?"

She was right, of course, but this was different. A decoy would literally be surrendering their life and everything they knew, for her. It wasn't the same as soldiers fighting in battle, or even civilians taking up arms. It felt… selfish.

"Fine!" Octavia snapped. "If you won't do it for yourself or the clans – then do it for my brother."

Clarke looked at her quizzically.

"Don't pretend like you don't know he hasn't had a day off since you took this job," Octavia folded her arms in front of her.

"None of us have," Clarke said retrospectively.

She had never intended for Bellamy to become so embroiled in her position as Commander. It wasn't something they had planned. After Lexa died and her spirit chose Clarke, it seemed only natural that Bellamy be in Polis beside her. They had been a team since their first days on the ground. Nothing, not even her position, could come between them. They never talked about it, it just happened.

Now here they were.

"Look," Octavia softened, trying to change tack. "I get that you two have this joined-at-the-hip, co-worker thing goin' on or whatever, but the amount of time he's spending with you lately is… unhealthy… to say the least."

"What are you talking about Octavia?" Clarke was getting tired of the conversation. She was hungry and annoyed that she was being held up. "You guys are on a roster. I spend just as much time with Miller as I do Bellamy."

"Are you sure about that?" Octavia continued. "'Cause I know Bell creates that roster, and he has twice as many shifts as the rest of us. And… even when he's _not_ rostered on he's always 'checking up on us'."

"So?" Clarke shrugged. "He's a workaholic. You know he takes his responsibilities seriously."

Octavia raised an eyebrow and placed her hands on her hips for emphasis.

"Yeah, but this is creepy serious."

Clarke almost laughed at the solemnity in her friend's voice. Everything was so damn grave with the Blake siblings. At least Bellamy could crack a joke every now and again.

"What exactly do you mean by creepy?" she asked.

"I wasn't going to say anything," Octavia started, "but since you're hell bent on refusing to accept this idea…"

"Say anything about what?" Clarke was losing patience, fast.

"Bellamy has been spending so much time with you… he knows things about you that not even your _mother_ would know."

"Like what?"

"Like… the exact day your cycle is due," Octavia offered.

"Really?" She was curious as to how he knew this, half the time she forgot herself.

"And when it's done," Octavia added.

"So?" Clarke was not convinced this was significant, although she did wonder exactly how it had come up in conversation. "He's observant. Anyone can pick up on someone's mood swings."

"That's not all," Octavia was looking at the ground now. It was unlike her to feel uncomfortable.

"What is it?"

"A couple of nights ago I was on sentry outside your door and he came to 'check up on things'. There was a scream from inside your room. I was about to barge in there when Bellamy stopped me."

"He stopped you?" Clarke's brow furrowed. "Why?"

Octavia rolled her eyes, and shifted on her feet. Clarke sensed that she didn't really want to explain this part, for whatever reason.

"He assured me it wasn't _that_ kind of a scream."

"Oh?" Clarke thought for a second, considering what that meant, then, as recognition of a couple nights ago entered her head, her cheeks turned red. "O _h_!" she said again, eyes enlarging. "Wait… h-how did he _know?"_

"Like I said," Octavia shrugged, "creepy serious."

"Oh my god," Clarke covered her face with her hands.

"So," Octavia smirked, "does this mean you'll reconsider?"

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 **A/N:** **Thanks so much for reading. I'm feeling really out of the loop at the moment with this fandom, as only up to Ep 6 of S4 here in Australia, so I would really appreciate your comments (sans spoilers), even if you just wanna say hello!**

 **xoxo**


	2. Chapter 2

**Tags: Bellarke. Canon-divergence. S3ish. The AI doesn't exist. The 2nd Apocalypse doesn't exist. Humour - I hope. Bickering. Angst. Sexual Tension. Pining. Idiots in Love. Original Female Character.**

 **Summary: Much to everyone's annoyance, Bellamy finds it hard to choose a "substitute" for Clarke. Eventually though, someone catches his eye. Will she meet his expectations when it comes to "ghosting" the Commander's role? Or is Bellamy having second thoughts about the whole plan?** **Also, our two idiots in love have a rather intimate conversation.**

 **A/N:Thank-you to everyone who has read so far, I've had fun writing this, I hope you enjoy!**

 **Non beta'd as per normal**

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Chapter Two

Squatting in a far corner of the room, Bellamy surveyed the potential candidates one last time as Lincoln and Octavia ran them through the final series of exercises.

He rubbed a hand over his face and stood up slow and deliberate, in order to garner Octavia's attention, shaking his head in dismissal when he caught her eye.

None of them added up.

Octavia rolled her eyes in exasperation and called an end to the session.

"Bellamy – this is the third lot you've rejected in as many days," she pointed out as Lincoln ushered the women from the hall. "At some stage you have to stop being so picky and just choose somebody."

"If this is going to work, O, we need to do it properly - starting with the right substitute."

Octavia strode off, mumbling something indecipherable under her breath.

Down on the ground, Bellamy helped escort the group to the stables where some of them had housed their horses for the duration of their stay. Octavia and Lincoln had handpicked most of the possible doubles from small, remote communities in order to draw less suspicion.

They had already decided that the mission would be top secret. Only Clarke and her elite security team would be privy to the details.

The success of the entire plan depended on absolute discretion.

Not even the candidates knew what it was all about.

Bellamy watched as the women prepared their rides, wondering whether Octavia was right.

Maybe he was being pedantic.

Truth be told, he was finding it almost impossible to find a "replacement" Clarke. Perhaps that was the problem. He was approaching the task from the wrong perspective.

As he pondered his thought processes, Bellamy's focus was drawn to one of the women as she moved around the stable with a quiet, unassuming confidence.

She hadn't stood out before.

When the woman bent down to examine a gash on one of the horse's hocks, tending to it with a rag and a vial of ointment, Bellamy was struck with a strange sense of familiarity.

"Octavia," he called, signalling for his sister.

He nodded subtly at the subject.

"Why didn't I notice her earlier?" he asked, and to his surprise Octavia laughed.

"Reese?" She questioned with incredulity. "Bellamy, she's a stable hand – a good one at that. She has a way with the animals."

"I can see that," Bellamy huffed.

A stable hand? Of course they would spend all this time and effort searching for the perfect person, when they may have been right here, under their noses, all along.

Bellamy stepped closer and raked his eyes up and down, exploring every inch of Reese's physical exterior, conducting a mental checklist of her appearance and comparing it to Clarke's.

There were some striking similarities.

The woman seemed in a world of her own, continuing to treat the horse's wound, soothing it with a soft song in trigedasleng while she worked.

"Bellamy!" a voice suddenly snapped, bringing him back to reality and alerting the woman to his rather obtrusive presence. "She's not an object," Clarke muttered, for his ears only, as she nudged past. "Apologies for my people, Reese - sometimes they take their jobs far too seriously."

Clarke sent a stifling glare in Bellamy's direction.

"Commander," Reese acknowledged, bowing her head.

"How would you like to join us for lunch in a little bit?" Clarke asked casually, as if it were an everyday invitation.

"It would be my honour," Reese replied.

After, as he, Clarke, Lincoln and Octavia made their way to the parade ground for combat training, Bellamy asked "how did you know I thought she was a possible candidate?"

"It was pretty obvious by the way you were ogling her," Octavia snorted, only to be reprimanded with a warning look from Lincoln.

"I was watching from the stable entrance," Clarke said. "But Octavia's right Bellamy. We've had over thirty women in and out of the tower in the last few days. You didn't show the slightest interest in any of them."

"Why Reese?" Lincoln inquired gently, voicing what they had all been thinking.

They turned to Bellamy, who shrugged.

How could he explain it?

"I don't know," he sighed. "She's a healer, of sorts, I guess."

"I think she's too meek," Octavia added her piece.

"We can train that out of her," Clarke countered.

"She has brown hair," Lincoln remarked nonchalantly.

"That can be easily changed," Clarke replied.

"We don't even know if she's going to agree to the plan," Bellamy deadpanned.

"And _that_ can be arranged," Clarke said with a wink. "Everybody has their price, Bellamy."

* * *

When they first broached the subject, they told Reese little. Only that the role would be highly risky, highly secretive and that she would be working in close quarters with the Commander.

Clarke was adamant that they highlight the fact that Reese would have to surrender many of her freedoms – including the way she looked, and her associations with others.

"You will be restricted in your movements and from seeing family members and friends," Clarke clarified. "But in return, you may have anything you desire."

After a short period of consideration, Reese accepted the role.

"I have no–one," she said. "And all I ask is that my people are protected, and provided for."

As Monroe showed the new recruit to her room, Lincoln explained that Reese had come from an isolated village in a valley on the southernmost border of the Ice Nation. The village was famous for their horse breeding and training, but, under the rule of Queen Niyah, Azgeda had forced them to forfeit the majority of their purebred stock year after year, leaving little for them to trade with the other villages and clans.

"So they're economically vulnerable?" Kane questioned.

"Yes," Lincoln concurred. "Many families send their eldest and sometimes only children, away to work as stable hands and horse healers in exchange for goods. Some return, taking their earnings back to the village to help sustain the community, but others stay, finding nothing of worth to go home to."

"Is she likely to be a loose cannon when it comes to Azgeda?" Bellamy asked. He had to know where the cracks in their plans lay. Reese's history could make her liable on the job. The last thing they needed right now was to appear weak in the face of the Ice Nation.

"It's a possibility," Lincoln considered carefully. "Not all of the villagers stood back passively and allowed Azgeda to pilfer their livelihood. In the beginning, some families revolted. Reese's was one of them."

Bellamy nodded.

So, Reese was no stranger to loss, like the rest of them. Perhaps that would help the way she performed the role. He had witnessed first-hand, the immense amount of suffering Clarke had endured, during their short time on earth. Not to mention her father's floating.

He made a mental note to keep an eye on Reese's reaction to anything Ice Nation related, and then set about preparing her specialised training schedule, with Clarke.

Perhaps this plan would work after all.

* * *

Twenty four hours later, he wasn't so sure.

It was hot, he was tired and they seemed to be getting nowhere with Reese.

She was capable in combat, that they had discovered - a little too capable, for Bellamy's liking.

"You have to fight scrappier," he told her for what felt like the tenth time, shaking his sweaty arms and legs loosely, as if trying to demonstrate.

"What is scrappier?" Reese asked, standing still and stoic as a statue.

"Okay Bellamy," Clarke chipped in, rising from the practice mat where she had been watching. "I think it's time for a break."

The three of them had been spending almost every waking hour together.

Reese's responsibility was to ghost everything Clarke did, while Bellamy took notes. It was up to him to answer her questions and correct her. She was a dutiful student, there was no doubt, but the more Bellamy got to know her, the less confident he felt about the mission.

Her and Clarke were yards apart.

"You know," Clarke said, sidling up beside him on the balcony where he sat cooling his bare skin in the open breeze. "I'm beginning to get offended by your constant reminders that I can't fight."

"I never said you couldn't fight," he objected. "I just said you fight dirty."

"Whatever gets me ahead," she smiled playfully and nudged his shoulder with hers.

Behind them, Reese was unable to hear what they were talking about, but she observed their interaction with interest, while she stretched out the soreness from the training session.

"One day, it'll get you dead," Bellamy grumbled, less light-hearted than he'd intended.

She laughed at his sombreness. There was that good ol' fashioned Blake sobriety again.

"What's got you so down today?" She probed jovially.

"I don't know Clarke," he stole a glance over his shoulder at Reese. "Do you really think this is going to work?"

"I hope so," she quipped without missing a beat. "I'm sick of you having to chaperone me everywhere!"

"Ha ha," he replied, but smiled despite himself.

"Seriously though Bellamy," Clarke's tone shifted. "The whole reason I agreed to this plan was because Octavia thought you were working obsessively hard." She looked at him with that eager sense of intrigue of hers, like she was trying to nut something out.

"Come on Clarke, you know how Octavia exaggerates," Bellamy brushed it away.

"She told me about the other night, outside my room," Clarke added with a curious trepidation.

He flashed her a searching look and then dropped his eyes to the ground – disconcerted. Why was she bringing this up? Was she trying to make him feel uncomfortable? What exactly did she want to know? He refused to give in to her provocations.

So he shrugged it off.

"It's my job to know everything about you Clarke."

"Everything Bellamy?"

" _Everything_." He said it with such a straight face and an earnest, intense stare, that this time Clarke was forced to look away.

Now she was the one feeling uncomfortable.

And yet, she still found the courage to ask him, "how did you even figure it out?"

Bellamy cleared his throat and looked dead-ahead, out over the capital, below them.

"Let's just say I once made the same mistake Octavia did."

"Right," Clarke thought about this revelation for a second. "What stopped you?"

He turned slowly and looked directly at her. Not at her, but _into_ her - like he truly _knew_ her. Like there was nothing left for him to know.

Clarke's eyes widened and her mouth dropped as she realised – _nothing_ had stopped him.

He had heard her scream, opened the door and entered the room.

She must have been so engrossed in her private moment of ecstasy that she didn't notice the intrusion.

She wondered if he'd stayed and watched, or shied away.

Together they held each other's gaze as if locked in some weird game of chicken, waiting for someone to make the next move.

The stillness between them was so serene, that Bellamy could hear even Clarke's heart beating, until movement behind them reminded them that Reese was still in the room.

Bellamy squinted and shook his head as if shaking himself from a daze. He got to his feet in a hurry, heading to the back of the room where he picked up his discarded shirt and pulled it over his naked torso.

"I'm gonna get cleaned up before the ambassador's meeting," he muttered as he walked towards the door. "Monroe and Miller are on post if you need anything."

Personally, _he_ needed some space and clarity, and maybe a cool shower.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks so much for reading. I'm feeling really out of the loop at the moment with this fandom, as only up to Ep 6 of S4 here in Australia, so I would really appreciate your comments (sans spoilers), even if you just wanna say hello!**

 **I'm on tumblr as sarmaarmour, but a little quiet at the moment, because of the above!**

 **xoxo**


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